


Uncoil

by onegoose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ? Keith calls Shiro captain a lot, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, authority kink, unbeta’d i’m too vain lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 13:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onegoose/pseuds/onegoose
Summary: Shiro notices how often Keith clenches his teeth.





	Uncoil

**Author's Note:**

> hi uh  
> i've never written fic in my life and i'm afraid i've really shown my hand with this one so... please be gentle with me, internet

Keith has always been tense. It was a defense mechanism, Shiro supposes; when the galaxy throws punch after punch at you, you had to be ready to take them. Keith wears every hit he’s ever taken in his body language. It’s twisted up between his shoulder blades, in the way he plants his feet and puffs his chest, always prepared to strike, like every moment is a battle. Defense by way of offense. Even when he came back from his time on the space whale, or whatever, taller and broader, his growth spurt still dropped him off all sharp edges and hard angles. 

Shiro does what he can to ground Keith, tries to counter the lithe tension with his own soft bulk. They foil perfectly, the two of them, in that way. Shiro channels opportunities and challenges down his spine into the earth, or whatever he has beneath his feet. He rolls all the new authority and responsibility ( _obligations_ , really) of being Captain of the Atlas squarely off his back. Being back on Earth and in the Garrison brought a familiarity and an order to the chaos he’d finally adapted to in outer space. Falling back into step as a leader here, with military structure and scientific method, made it all the more easy to distribute his stress outward and hold himself tall. 

Keith has had a more difficult time adjusting. Even though he’s _leading_ Voltron, working with a team at all was always outside of his comfort zone. Teams mean accountability, and require a... different tactical approach than nose-diving headfirst into attacks. He’s glad for the family he’s made, but there’s a freedom in being alone in the universe. Earth needs Voltron to survive, and Keith’s still dealing with being a _part_ of something. 

It grates at him, Shiro can tell. He rubs at the muscles in his back and his arms when he thinks Shiro can’t see, rolling out of their shared bed in the morning or stretching up like a cat from the dinner table. The discomfort settles itself deep into the set of his jaw and makes its own home there. Shiro notices how often Keith clenches his teeth - in strategy meetings with the Garrison leadership, tuning up hoverbikes for the pilots in the hanger, even playing Monsters & Mana with the squad on a rare evening off duty.

Shiro watches Keith step out of the shower after a long night of drills, running training maneuvers with the other paladins while he was tied up in meetings with the other commanders. It seems he’s turned the water up too high again, the steam swirling up around his legs along the cool tile. He’d hoped at least the heat would have relaxed him some, but even from their bed Shiro can feel Keith’s thoughts racing around behind his eyes. The tension crackles tight beneath his skin as he stalks out of the bathroom, towel hung low around his hips, and his jaw is still clenched as he starts digging around at the bottom of their closet for fresh clothes. 

Shiro slips off from where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed to come up behind Keith, just as he stands up to pull a clean tee over his head. He snakes his arms around Keith’s waist and turns him around to softly plant a kiss on his cheek. Keith jerks away at the surprise, always on the offensive, but relaxes minutely into the hold once he registers that it’s Shiro, still mostly in uniform. 

“Hey, it’s just me.” Shiro murmurs into his neck. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Just… habit, I guess.” Keith sighs. 

Shiro can hear Keith’s teeth grind back together, so he reaches for his face. He cups Keith’s chin and leans up to bump their foreheads. “You’re going to lose your molars if you keep doing that, you know. Hunk’ll be pretty upset if he’s only allowed to make non-solid foods from now on.” 

Keith huffs out a laugh, internal tension broken for just a moment. He reaches down to pull a clean pair of underwear from their pile of laundry to put them on. By the time he stands back up, his jaw is tight again. “He’d probably appreciate the culinary challenge. It’s almost like I’d be doing him a favor.” 

“Did they have a Chopped: Liquids Only tournament back in the day?” Shiro teases, and earns just a half-smile in return. Keith’s dressed enough for Shiro’s taste and this is a conversation he’s been meaning to start for a while, so he loops his fingers around Keith’s wrist to gently pull him back toward their bed. He presses his hand against Keith’s cheek, rubbing his thumb into the tightness there and guides them to sit. “Aren’t you tired? You’ve been clenching practically since we got back to Earth.” 

“You weren’t complaining about that last night.” Keith deadpans. 

Shiro groans and throws a heavy leg into Keith’s torso to push them both down onto the mattress. “Are you talking about your asshole? You asshole???” 

“Why not? You usually don’t mind.” 

Shiro tries to pierce through Keith’s suggestive deflections and counter with his own patented steely, earnest gaze. “I’m trying to take _care_ of you, if you’d ever let me.” 

Keith sighs again, but Shiro can tell he’s not ready to grant access to his Emotions. “Things are just… a lot right now, Shiro. And for a while now. It’s been a lot for a long time.” Keith nods decidedly, as if he’s said anything at all. He tries to swing Shiro’s leg back over his body and use the momentum to roll himself on top. Shiro reads him like a book though, anticipating his deflection, and continues the roll until Keith is pinned, for real this time, beneath him. He’s boxed in by Shiro’s thick arms, crowded by his torso, but he doesn’t feel trapped. He feels… safe. 

“Keith. Let me take care of you.” Shiro’s so earnest and he knows it goes straight to Keith’s dick, but also his heart. Shiro can almost pinpoint the exact moment when Keith’s last defense against Feelings comes crumbling down, and it eerily lines up with an interested twitch from his groin. 

“ _Okay._ Okay.” Keith closes his eyes and presses his cheek into Shiro’s bicep. For a minute, Keith feels small, but not in a way that makes him feel powerless. More like the crackle inside him has finally calmed down enough to be tied down. Small enough to stop flying off the handle, and finally be under control. After a breath, he steels up and looks Shiro in the eye. “It’s actually… really bugging me.” Once he’s opened his mouth, Keith can’t help but let it pour. “My jaw’s always killing me. I catch myself doing it all day and try to stop, but then it’s like the more I think about not doing it, the more I end up noticing it happen, and then I just get frustrated and then I do it _more_ -” 

Shiro drops down from where he’s been holding himself up on his elbows and squishes Keith below his full weight. “You’re okay. Thanks for telling me.” He can feel Keith grumble beneath his chest, so he rolls off him to one side. “What was that?” 

“That’s one way to stop a spiral, I suppose.” Keith repeats, a little hotly. “Got any suggestions about what I should do about it?” 

With a gentle hand, Shiro sweeps Keith’s bangs back from his forehead and soaks in the pink it brings to the tips of his ears. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you-”

“Yeah, yeah, breathing exercises, patience yields bupkis, or whatever.” Keith does his best sarcastic therapist voice into their pillow, “ _Have you tried just, being less anxious?_ ” 

“I know, I know.” Shiro holds up his hands in surrender. He can tell Keith has more to say, but he’ll let it out when he’s ready. “We’re a little bit past Psych 101 with our space trauma.” The grunt Keith lets out in agreement is Shiro’s cue to tease lightly, “I’d love to meet the man patient enough to cool you down for meditation.” 

Keith looks up at Shiro and sees the sun behind his face. He bites his lip; can’t believe he ever got this lucky, struck for the thousandth time with the reality of how deeply Shiro loves him. In the warmth of his gaze, Keith can’t remember why he was ashamed into keeping this to himself. He charges ahead. “I was wondering, actually… if you could help me with that.” 

Shiro’s taken slightly off guard by the sudden drop in the pitch of Keith’s voice. “What, meditation? I mean, yeah, of course, but-” 

“Well, sort of.” Keith swings his leg up till he’s seated on Shiro’s lap. He can feel Shiro’s confusion start to turn into something else below his hips. He basks in the reverent attention from Shiro watching him from the pillows, can tell he’s trying to be a gentleman in uniform and ignore his own need in favor of Keith’s problems. Keith loves to tease, but he loves the way Shiro lets him even more.

Shiro raises an eyebrow expectantly. “Do you want to tell me what you want, or am I supposed to guess?” He tries to resist rolling up for more friction, still committed to making Keith talk, so he settles for pushing his thumbs into Keith’s hipbones and rubbing tight circles there.

“I want to test your iron will, _Captain_. See if you can outlast me.” Keith’s fingers dance over the broad expanse of Shiro’s chest, fiddling with the clean lines of his uniform and trying to crack through the veneer of discipline.

Shiro grabs his wrists in one hand, bracing his shoulder with the other, and pulls Keith down until he’s inches from his own face. He ignores Keith’s smirk and narrows his eyes. “Is that a _challenge_?”

Keith surges forward, as best as he can without his hands to balance him, and bites a kiss into Shiro’s mouth while he grinds his hips down. His pupils are blown out when he pulls off, but he still manages to stare Shiro down defiantly. “Maybe to you.”

Shiro takes a deep breath. 

Keith fucks just like he spars; attacking wildly, unpredictable and foolhardy. Relying on dexterity more than strength. Shiro’s always favored disciplined motion, using his partner’s weight against them. Back at the Garrison, Keith would orbit around Shiro’s wide stance, throwing hit after hit from every direction for Shiro to brush off without breaking a sweat. With an average opponent, Shiro would wait it out, let their exhaustion get the better of them before pinning them onto the mat, but Keith has never been average. He required a different approach. 

Shiro uses the unearthly strength of his prosthetic to haul Keith off his lap and tumble him onto the floor. He moves to sit on the edge of their bed, hoisting Keith onto his knees and holding his wrists above his head. Shiro takes in the view, and marvels at the way Keith can still manage to look so petulant while his cock was straining against his boxers. 

Shiro clears his throat, and trains his expression into something more authoritative. “I think you’re underestimating my ‘iron will.’” 

Keith struggles against the hold, ready to spit fire, trying to break free or get closer to Shiro’s groin. He isn’t sure yet. “Then prove it, _Captain._ ” 

Keith looks wanton, mouth agape, practically feral. Shiro moves with a precise composure. Shiro releases his wrists and grabs him roughly by the hair instead, standing them both up and earning a yelp from Keith in surprise. Shiro drops his voice low. “No hands until I say so.” 

Keith whimpers as Shiro lets him go. He rubs at his wrists, a little light headed, as he watches Shiro take a step back and smooth out his uniform. He blinks twice when he notices Shiro isn’t hard at all. Meanwhile, his own cock is dripping and he’s dying to palm himself, but he waits for an order. 

Shiro makes his way over to sit at the small desk they keep in their room. He turns to Keith expectantly, hardly having to suggest anything before Keith is kneeling between his legs. Shiro unbuckles his belt and pulls it through the loops, undoes the zipper on his pants and frees himself. Keith licks his lips and dives for it, forgetting the rules until Shiro slaps at his fingers. “No _hands,_ remember?” Shiro admonishes as Keith lets out a whine. 

Still, Shiro was here to take care of him. He leans down and Keith catches a glimpse of the concern in his eyes. He murmurs into Keith’s ear, “Is this okay, babe? Color?” 

Keith nods frantically, still drooling for Shiro’s cock, and he hisses out, “Green! Green. I’m good, _fuck_ , Shiro, let me-”

Satisfied, Shiro sits back up to reset, leaning back slightly in the desk chair and giving a Keith a firm nod. Keith braces himself with his palms on the floor and takes Shiro eagerly into his mouth. Even soft, Shiro’s still huge. _A shower, not a grower,_ Keith thinks to himself. It’s a little clumsy without his hands, but he tries to pull out a few tricks with just his tongue, swirling around the head and giving little licks around the base. Shiro cards his prosthetic fingers through Keith’s hair and lets out a breath, encouraging him to keep going. Shiro’s not hard yet but Keith’s insistent, sucking lightly and taking the full length of him. 

“I have some work to do.” Shiro says lightly. Keith freezes. 

“A couple of things to read,” Shiro continues. Keith panics and starts to pull off, when grip in his hair turns to iron and keeps him in place. 

“You’ll be alright there, I think.” Keith can hear the smirk in Shiro’s voice as he turns his attention to the tablet on the desk. He pulls his hand back from Keith, setting both arms on the desk, and starts to lazily flick through a couple of screens. 

Stuck here, with his mouth on Shiro’s soft cock and aching with his own arousal, Keith is a live wire. He’s thrashing internally, looking for an outlet for the energy inside him. He knows he can’t move much, unable to under the constraints of Shiro’s commands, but he’s not gonna get anywhere just sitting around. 

He resolves to take as much from Shiro as he can, determined to get a rise out of him. He rolls the heavy tip across his tongue. He sucks in earnest, sloppy and wet, head bobbing and cheeks hollowing. Drool coats his chin and his own cock continues to leak untouched, but Keith’s nothing if not tenacious. He uses all his tricks, losing track of time as he goes after all the spots he knows would goad Shiro into fucking his throat if he was hard. 

_If_ he was hard. Keith’s been going for a while but his efforts have yet to be rewarded. Above him, Shiro is visibly unaffected. If anything, he seems a little annoyed at all the motion coming from his lap. 

Keith starts to notice the effect of his prolonged arousal and the way he’s braced and kneeling on the floor. With the weight of Shiro filling his mouth, Keith has to focus on keeping his jaws apart and breathing through his nose. His vision starts to blur a little, moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. All the blood in his dick must be keeping it from his brain. 

Keith shifts strategies, settles in for a marathon instead of a sprint. That’s not where he’s comfortable, preferring to strike hard and fast, but he can tell when something requires a long game. If Shiro’s got time, Keith’s got all the time in the world. He holds Shiro fully sheathed, controlling the breath through his nose pressed into the soft skin above his base. He maintains a light suction, save for when his tongue sneaks past his lips to lick lightly at Shiro’s balls.

He lets himself zone out, just concentrates on keeping himself warm and wet and relatively teeth-free. His mouth is full, not quite stretched open, which is nice. It’s not a full-throttle fuck like he wanted originally, but he’s enjoying the weird, floaty headspace he’s in and the prolonged exposure to Shiro’s penis. He hums occasionally, deep and low, thinking idly that the vibration might have an effect but really just reminding Shiro he’s there. A firm hand slips down and helps keeps him in place, and that’s just fine with Keith. 

It has to have been at least two hours, and at some point Keith wonders lazily how boring his reading must be, to have kept his dick from even twitching under all the attention. His own erection has been long forgotten, first replaced by his competitive streak and then because it didn’t matter anymore. Eventually, Keith goes completely boneless and leans his head against Shiro’s thick thigh, adrenaline worn off and tired from all his effort. The hand in his hair starts scratching softly at the nape of his neck. He shifts slightly to support himself against Shiro’s leg and relaxes into the touch. He falls asleep slack-jawed and drooling, Shiro’s heavy cock still inside his mouth. 

\---

Keith blinks awake slowly. It takes him a second to process that he’s been moved to the bed. He’s tucked against Shiro’s chest, and Shiro’s stroking his cheek easily. There’s a small wet spot on Shiro’s shirt against his face that he realizes with horror must be his own slobber. He pulls his head back slightly to look up into Shiro’s face. 

Shiro pulls him up, grinning at the grumpy noises Keith lets out when he wakes, and holds Keith’s face in his hands. He runs his thumbs across Keith’s cheekbones and hushes him, “Shhhh, shh, you did so good, baby. So good for me.” He scatters light kisses across Keith’s face, mapping small constellations with his mouth. 

“Thought _you_ were supposed to be takin’ care of _me_ ,” Keith mumbles sleepily, with no real heat behind it. 

“I was,” Shiro says innocently. He cuts off Keith’s indignant huff with a kiss, slipping his tongue in for good measure. He feels Keith wake up a little beneath him. “You were the one who wanted to see if I could outlast you.” 

Keith groans as Shiro moves down to suck kisses onto his neck. “Shoulda known better than to challenge the Captain, I guess.” 

“We can call it a tie, if you want.” Shiro keeps his voice level as he slips a hand under Keith’s shirt and strips it over his head. “I would say we were both winners, if you think about it.” He grazes down Keith’s chest with his mouth, taking in Keith’s little gasps and he’s hard against Keith’s thigh. 

Keith’s not so distracted by his own growing boner to let Shiro slide. He’s more than a little cranky that Shiro’s rock hard just from kissing when his grade-A blowjob went to waste. He tries to look pained instead of pouty when he shoots back, “Didn’t feel like winning... I can’t figure out how you stayed soft that whole time.” 

Shiro pulls down Keith’s boxers, never breaking eye contact and keeping his voice even, “Patience yields focus.” Keith swats him on the head, and he probably deserves it. “But actually, I was doing you a favor.” 

Keith rolls his eyes and pushes his hips up to poke Shiro in the cheek. “Yeah, sure you were. You _could_ be doing me a favor right now.” 

Shiro takes the hint and deftly swallows Keith down to the hilt in one go, perhaps a little smugly at the wheeze Keith lets out above him. He knows it’s a lot, too much after leaving Keith untouched for so long, but Shiro’s always been an overachiever. He applies a firm suction and consistent motion, and it’s not long before his practiced strokes have Keith quaking on the sheets. When he comes, Shiro pulls him through it, bracing his arm across Keith’s hips to keep them down on the mattress so he can swallow without gagging. He cleans up with his tongue, gentle licks and little kisses, only letting up once Keith starts making grabby hands in his hair and at his shoulders. 

A part of Keith wants to curl up into Shiro’s chest and sleep for a week, but another much more stubborn part of him has his reputation to uphold. His pride tells him he’s a good pilot and a hot piece of ass; he’s sure Shiro’s earlier softness was probably a controlled measure on his part, but damn if it doesn’t provoke him to try and suck the life out of him through his dick. Before Shiro can make it back up to the pillows, Keith pushes him into a sit on the edge of the bed and slides onto his knees. He’s drained, literally, but he’s got something to prove. He looks up through his bangs like he knows Shiro likes and purrs, “Can I use my hands yet, Captain?” 

Shiro hums, apparently considering, but the precome leaking from his cock betrays him. “I think you’ve earned it.” 

Keith smears the liquid around the head with his hand and licks a wet stripe along Shiro’s balls. He strokes up and down his shaft quick and dirty, following his hand with his mouth. 

Shiro’s cool, collected demeanor flies out the window, but he’s still authoritative even as he’s being undone, “Fuck, baby, your tongue is so good. Feel how hard you make me? Taking the whole thing, just like you were made for me.” 

If it’s possible to smirk with a cock in your mouth, Keith does it. He already came, but his body feels electric; he’s crackling with it, powerful, and he routes it through Shiro like a conduit. 

Shiro keeps talking, loves how it makes Keith work harder, stroke faster, “Look so good on my dick, baby. Could barely stop myself from pinning you down, fucking your throat-”

Keith keeps stroking him, cups his balls in his hand for good measure, but he can’t resist shooting back, “Shoulda taken what you wanted, Captain-” Shiro’s slick enough from Keith’s spit that he can keep pumping with his hand, “-Shot your load down my throat, used me how you wanted.” 

“ _Keith,_ ” Shiro hisses. Finally, _finally_ , Keith feels Shiro’s release splatter across his face as he comes with a groan. Shiro wipes at the mess and pushes it into Keith’s mouth with his thumb. Keith sucks around it, lapping at his victory before breaking into a sloppy grin. Nothing tastes better than proving himself right. 

Shiro heaves him up just as Keith was rising, the extra momentum causes him to inadvertently tackle Shiro back onto the bed. They laugh lightly into each other’s mouths, kissing lazily for a while. Shiro has his arm wrapped loosely around Keith, gently pushing Keith’s hair back and scratching behind his ear. “I guess it worked.”

“Hmm?” Keith asks, half-asleep again. 

Shiro moves his hand to cup Keith’s cheek. “You’re not clenching.”

Keith barks out a little laugh. “Well, duh, _somebody_ wanted me to hold their mega-dong for them. Hard to do that with your mouth closed.” It’s got his usual sarcasm, but none of the bite. 

“That’s what you wanted, right?” Shiro asks lowly, wanting to hear Keith say it. 

Keith ducks his head into Shiro’s side, but he can feel the heat gathering at the tips of his ears. “How did you know I was gonna ask-?”

“How else was I going to get you to relax your jaw for a few hours?” Shiro teases, and Keith nips him on the ribs. Shiro curls his arm to trap Keith in a headlock, and gives him a noogie for good measure. “I knew you’d like it better as an order.” 

“Thanks, Captain,” Keith grunts, breaking the hold and rolling his eyes. The bite’s back in the sarcasm, this time. “Not sure what’s worse, taking orders or asking for help.” 

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure you like taking _some_ orders.” Shiro dodged Keith’s jab before it landed. But Shiro could tell, could always tell with Keith; it started as a joke but it got real towards the end. “You know, it’s okay to ask for help. It’s what I’m here for.”

“Blow me, you sap.”

_Always deflecting,_ Shiro thought affectionately. No need to deflect if Keith hadn’t really _heard_ him, so he knows Keith was listening. It’ll sink in over time - Keith will open up and Shiro will help him channel his intensity outwards. And if he has to give him “orders” until then to help him relax, well, neither of them seemed to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not good at replying ever to anything, but i'm on [tumblr](queerspacepilots.tumblr.com) if you notice a typo or anything xx


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